RUSSIA INVADED! CanxRus
by Evil minion14
Summary: Nobody invades Russia. Many have tried, all have failed until one day Ivan Russia disscovered Mathew Canada on the floor. Not knowing what to do, he rushes over to check on the fallen comrade, not knowing that Canada has a terrible quirk that officially invades Russia. And it is all France's fault. Kind-a cute, a bit sudjestive, minions 'r evil, please review! Canada x Russia
1. Intro: It's all France's Fault

**Minion wanted to write something cute and endearing, so out of the long adorable list of awkward cute characters in "Hetalia", Mathew Williams came to mind, for some reason... Ah Canada... Anywho, I do not own "Hetalia" or its kick-ass characters, so yeah… I can't **_**guarantee**_** this story is going to be… "Clean", "child-safe", "may-stir-feelings", because I have been writing boldly lately… so, beware of my evil minion-MWAHAHA NO PRISIONERS! **

**Please review, my sleazy readers, for Minions 'r evil and need praise or else we **_**take over**_** the world with an iron fist, in this case, the world of "Hetalia". So enjoy, "RUSSIA INVADED!" Canada x Russia! **

**For my minion: LUVRE THE POWER OF CUTE CUDDLY-NESS!**

Characters:

_Alfred_ = America, _Mathew_ = Canada, _Ivan_ = Russia, _Francis_ = France, _Arthur_ = England

****

HETALIA!

~Part one: It's all _France's_ fault~

On the events that happened in the Beijing meeting was all because of the country, France. Though he did not contribute _much_ to the invasion of Russia, the past actions and habits he influenced on Canada is _clearly_ France's fault.

It all started when Canada was a little kid-almost growing out of his toddler stage. Before France moved in with England, he was fully responsible for the growing country. He loved that boy, and giggled with parental glee when little Mattie gurgled, "Papa" at the large country. Though France was well known for sexual predator among the other countries, France was head-over-heels at the thought of being some countries father, especially to a cute innocent one, like Mathew.

In the early stages of parenthood, Papa France would let/force the toddler sleep on his chest. From naps to regular sleeping, little Mattie would be expected to cuddle and snuggle with the large country before falling to sleep. France loved the close contact with the tinny country and continued to let him sleep on his chest until he moved into England's house.

The cuddling was a thing to look forward too, it did, however, cause a problem later down the line. He did not know it, but Francis made Mathew develop bad sleeping habits that put a strain on the FACE family relationship.

Because Francis was always apart of Mattie's life, Mattie thought in order to sleep he had to cuddle with someone. At first it was cute, even Arthur was smitten instantly when little Canadian toddler waddled over and slept on him while he was watching football the telle. It then got out of hand when little Mattie panicked one night and frantically searched for his parents' bedroom to go to sleep. Once found, he then walked in on France and England when they were getting it "on" and tried to find his papa's chest to sleep on in the mess of sweaty limbs.

Things had to change at that point. Mathew was too clingy and the adults needed some time with each other. Plus they thought it was bad for Mathew's health (both physically and emotionally) if the boy kept barging in on them and tried to be a part of the group in order to sleep.

England eventually was the one who had to be the tough parent and made Mattie sleep in his own bed. It nearly broke his and Francis heart to tell the little Canadian that he had to sleep alone. Little Mathew instantly cried asking them why they hated him so much. Francis cried too and tried to explain to the little country that there was no way that they hated Mattie, Arthur and Francis just needed time together.

Two weeks later after they gave Mathew his room, Arthur and Francis had to make Alfred and Mattie roommates because Mattie would have these terrible nightmares of being alone that made him stay awake through the night shivering in the dark. They thought his twin brother would help him fall asleep and everything would be fine.

As the days progressed, the parents discovered that their boys were both very exhausted every morning and Alfred was being moody to Mathew. Alfred never meant to be mean to his twin, he was just tired from the many days of the lack of sleep.

When the parents questioned him, he replied that Mathew would keep him awake by tossing and turning all night. He told them that Mathew would sometimes burst out crying because he would be frustrated for not sleeping well. They asked him if it were the nightmares that was keeping his brother awake, but he just shrugged.

"He always slap his arm before he cried," toddler Alfred replied. That made them both worried and confused until they investigated the problem.

It turns out that the young Canadian was being kept awake because he was sleeping on his arms; cutting off the blood circulation as he slept on his stomach. They discovered that no matter what, Mathew cannot do is sleep on his back whatsoever. Every time England or France would roll him over, Canada would instantly flop back to his stomach, thus accidentally trapping his arms under him. When his arms or hands would go numb, little Mattie would wake up and had to shake the numbness off his limbs, accidentally hitting them on the bed or the wall. He would do this so many times before getting frustrated with himself and start to cry, waking his brother up in the process.

Cuddling, the parents found, was the only thing that would keep this boy from waking up in the middle of the night, so they had to be creative to solve this issue.

One day, Arthur came home with two body-sized teddy bears, a brown one for Alfred and a white one for Mathew. France was some-what skeptical at the teddy bears at first because the two boys seem to be too old to be playing with stuffed animals. When he saw the happy reaction in little Mattie's eyes his doubts were eliminated and greeted his knight in shining armor with a passionate peak on the lips.

The bear was the official first gift that England has ever given to little Canada. The little toddler was so happy for his gift that he carried his toy in his arms all throughout the day and fell asleep on it at night. The cuddling solution was a success. Because Mathew was sleeping well, there was no tension in the house.

The trick is that Mathew _still_ is a cuddle hazard, even in adulthood.


	2. Ch 1: Issues with Strange Beds

_**Yo**_**, Minion here. First time ever making chapters, so don't judge me, **_**humans**_**. This part of the chapter is going to lead up to something interesting so hold on to your hats-for those who does not have a hat, get one. Especially if it's a funny hat. Review or **_**else**_**! ENJOOOOOOOY! **

~Part Two Issues with Strange Beds and Desperate for _Cuddles_!~

~Beijing, China… Present day

Mathew sighted heavily as he creaked down on the leather sofa, his arms sagging slightly from the weight of bundle of fur that he always carried around. The Canadian grunted wearily as he hiked his pet close to his body and back to its original comfortable position.

The little polar bear cub looked up at his master curiously and waited for the Canadian to give him eye contact before asking in a high pitch voice, "Who are you?"

Mathew sighed, "I'm Cana-_oh_ forget it…" He was too tired to remind the little bear cub who he is. It's not like it really matters, his pet is going to forget it anyway. He slowly set the animal beside him on the couch and leaned back, listening to the low cracking noise coming from his spine as he moved. It did not hurt, but the amount and the volume of the popping noise from his back was concerning. Perhaps he should skip taking Kumajirou to the meeting tomorrow and let him sleep in.

The past meetings were tedious and consisted of heated bickering and endless supply of side conversations of useless topics. For _four_ _days_ _straight_, the meeting trickled by with nothing accomplished and most of everyone usually ended up yelling at each other at the end of the day. Because nobody paid attention to the Canadian country, Mathew was forced to listen to _everyone_ and take notes. He was rarely picked on to speak and was practically invisible.

_How can a person holding a polar bear cub _not _be noticed, eh? _He thought to himself bitterly. 

With his eyes closed, Mathew genially petted his polar bear; his breathing becoming slower and slower. Four days ago Mathew was invited to a mandatory meeting with the rest of the countries in Beijing, China. The only problem was that he got the report eight hours before the plane took off for China. It was bad enough that he was almost left behind, but because Mathew had to rush to the airport, he forgot many important things, in this case a body pillow for his arms.

_Maple_, how he hated sleeping in hotels. They never have enough pillows and he could never sleep on a strange bed without making one of his arm go numb. Alfred, his twin brother, always joke that his brother was a hazards cuddler. Mathew mentally rolled his eyes at that comment.

Inside Mathew's hotel room looked like a natural disaster had occurred. The mattress was askew, the white sheets tossed around, along with the clothes, and what is left of the once square pillows were nothing but beat-up saggy piles of cloth and cotton. He was a monster in bed without his body pillow.

When he was young, he mostly cried when he could not sleep. Now that he was an adult, he was a tyrant. Apparently, when Mathew is asleep, his body would subconsciously try to find _something_ to cuddle, grabbing and holding on to things until they satisfy his needs, making every hotel room known to mankind a war zone of cuddle. As a result, this took a lot of energy and the poor Canadian very tired and irritable.

"I _can't_ take this any longer," Mathew mumbled out loud to no one as he lazily scratched Kumajirou's ears. "I have to rest before the meeting continues… or else I won't make it through…" The polar bear cub licked his master's hand in appreciation and then announced "I'm hungry," before leaving him on the couch.

Kumajirou did love his master, what's-his-name, but because of past experience, the cub made a valiant effort to escape his owner every time they are traveling and sleeping in hotels. Last time, the cub was not quick enough to leave when his owner dozed off while holding him. The poor thing nearly suffocated him in his sleep and the bear was forced to bite his owners arm in order to escape. His master woke up instantly; gasping in pain as the little cub's teeth drew blood. The funny thing was that his master was the one who apologized and beg for forgiveness, when Kumajirou was the one who hurt him badly.

The little polar bear looked over his shoulder to see his master sleeping on the couch, his hand resting palm up at his side were the cub once sat. Even with the low lighting, Kumajirou saw a pink toothy crescent scar peaking out of the cuff on his owners forearm. Another reason for him to leave…

His, what's-his-name, was breathing was slow, and his face was taunt in a slight frown. The cub noted that there were rings around his masters eyes His poor owner… For days he worked without complaining, and now there he lay there dead tired. Kumajirou then notice his owner's body started to stir and the animal frantically nudged the door open with his snout and got out of the room quick. Just in time when he heard a heavy thud hit the floor.

The _cuddling_ has begun…

**Seriously can "The **_**Cuddling**_**" sound so threatening? Or unbelievably funny with dangerous consequences?**


	3. Late and Alone(?) CHALLENGED ANSWERED

**HURAY! Minion's third chapter! The build up before the break, this time in the victim's point of view! Oh the woe! Oh the cuddly **_**suffering**_** I have foreseen! **

**(later) **_***Minion reads reviews* **_**Oh let's see-OH! My first review! Hurray!**

"…_**Update fast or else."**_

… **Oh… Minion has a **_**challenger**_**… **_***evil smile***_** Well my minion, a story of ungodly cuddly proportions shall rain upon thee as you read Minion's creative infective story! Minion was going to be nice the character Ivan, but now… mwah-**_**Mw**_**ah-**_**MWAHAHAHAHA!**_** NO MERCY! **

"**RATED **_**M**_**" FOR FUTURE EVENTS HAHAHAHA! **

~Part three: Late and Alone (?)~

Ivan was bent over, breathing hard as his lungs worked over time to pump oxygen to his brain, his legs twitching as he clasps his shaking knees as he struggled for air. He chuckled at himself; laughing at the idea of how he might look like to the "Three Trembling Trio" if they caught him bent over and tired; gasping for breath like a pathetic small country. _Such a heavy price between punctuality and image_, he mused.

For the past four days, Ivan was stuck in his airport because of a freak blizzard that billowed at them mercilessly from the east. Out of security reasons, everyone in the building was forced to stay indoors and sleep on the floor until the storm passes and the roads cleared. It was bad enough that the weather was keeping Ivan from this "important" meeting, but the letter that invited him to Beijing was not sent early enough for him to properly prepare for the trip, making him rush to the airport at a very late hour. Ivan _suspected_ America was the cause of the invitations lateness, but he had no proof and let the grudge fester until someone fesses up. Ivan has many ways to find the truth.

His breathing was slowing down now, and the painful "_thump_" was not as hard as it was a mile back. He smiled almost innocently at his once polished shoes, he did not run this hard since Belarus tried to marry him, which was all of the time but this occasion was different. He was _late_ for a meeting, for once in his life. With a couple of labored gasps, the Russian straighten up and forced himself to gather every scrap of his composer he could muster up. While straightening his grey military jacket in place, Ivan picked up his beat-up leather suitcase and marched through the hotel doors.

Looking around with a weary child-like grin on his face, Ivan located the front desk and took his place at the end of the line and waited quietly to be checked in for the hotel. The person in front of him started to shift uncomfortably under the Russian stare and offered the intimidating country to skip a head. Two minutes later of staring and awkward shuffling, Ivan was finally at the front of the line and received his room key. He also received free continental breakfast for the entire stay over, which made Ivan's creepy smile grow wider, and his dark purple aura menacing. The host shuttled and wished him a lovely stay as she waved him "good-bye".

"Chinese people are so _nice_," he hummed to himself as he placed the key inside his coat pocket, "Maybe they will become one with Russia, da?"

He walked around the halls, looking around at each oriental sign to find the space were the meeting was taken place. He was already late, he did not want to be lost too. After he checked the first hall way, he moved over to the second one.

_Maybe I could find somebody familiar, da?_ He wondered as he combed through the space. So far, no such luck.

He guessed the other countries might be on break at this point and looked for an elevator that will lead him to his room. He may not look like it, with his intimidating power and outward appearance, but the Russian was extremely tired and achy. The days in the airport were taxing on his strength and mental state. From screaming babies to the awkward positions for sleep, Ivan was utterly spent and would love nothing more than a hot shower, a bottle of good vodka, and some well needed rest on a soft bed. Ivan shivered at the thought as he continued to search for an elevator.

The thing about hotels, which Ivan hated most besides the usual irks, was that nothing in this building was where it should be. He followed a path, thinking it might lead to a cafeteria but ended up at a pool. He retraced his steps to follow another hall way that lead to the laundry room; one lead to this, the other lead to that, and all along as he was wandering in and out of the hallways and paths, Ivan could not find an elevator or a flight of stairs to get to his room. It was bad enough that there was little staff in the hall ways, due to the late hour, but the walls and the carpet on the floors looked exactly the same. Making it terribly confusing to roam around and find the correct destination. The only thing that was keeping the Russian horribly lost was the cheap oriental paintings on the walls to help guide him.

Ivan made an exasperating sigh. He did not want to do this, but if he cannot find his way soon, he may have to go all the way back to the desk and ask for an escort. Which was not earth-shattering terrible, but it would dampen his image, some-what.

With a last burst of determination, Ivan rounded a sharp corner to a promising hall wall when his feet stumbled over a small furry white thing; the surprise of the attack under him made Ivan drop his suitcase which sprung open the lid, spilling most of his clothes all over the attacker and the floor. Ivan cursed at the thing in Russian before discovering that the attacker was a polar bear cub.

To see a polar bear walking around in Beijing, China (and not at the zoo) was like seeing jellyfish climb a snowy peak. The climate, food source, and over all environment is not an ideal place for a polar bear to live in, and yet there it was. Pulling away at Ivan's clothes from its body wall holding a dirty take-out box in its mouth.

Ivan bent down at the creature and stared at it critically. The beast glared back at him and muffled, "Watch were you're going!" in a high pitch voice. Ivan blinked once. A talking polar bear cub…

In the back of the Russian's mind, he felt like he should know this character from somewhere. Picking up a skirt from the cubs head, Ivan asked "Who are you?" Might as well, since the animal is capable of replying.

The little bear made a huffing noise which was muffled from the out take-out box in his mouth. "That is _my_ line," he replied and waddled down the hall towards a knocked over trash can, picking at the garbage to find scraps. Ivan kept staring, trying to connect the dots.

"I've _seen_ you somewhere," he mumbled at the creature. The bear is somebody's pet, that's for sure. The fact that he can speak in English and did not act like a wild animal when Ivan approached it made it clear. _But who owns a polar bear cub?!_

Ivan wracked his brains, amazed that the answer was so hard to find even though someone owning an arctic predator should be _obvious_ to remember. He kept thinking about a chair-_nyet_, not chair, a lap. There was a lap involved with the bear and _him_ somehow.

He was determined to figure this out when he was distracted by a loud noise that crashed down the hallway. Both he and the polar bear cub froze. It was the first time Ivan realized that one of the doors in the hallway was cracked ever so slightly open.

Ivan then noticed that the bear had started sharking in the garbage that it sat in. Another crashing noise erupted out of the cracked door and the bear cub looked away from the room and attentively resumed picking at the garbage. Ivan stood up. He usually was not one for snooping around and was not the type of person who checked _every_ strange thing that crossed his path. But the bizarre reaction of the bear cub and the sheer volume of the crashing noises peaked Ivan's curiosity. He marched over the trash and around the bear cub and bee-lined for the opened door.

He swear he hear the beast whispered, _"Don't-"_, but Ivan already stepped into the room.

The scene before Ivan was something that reminded him of the time when the Mongolians rampaged and pillaged his country so many years ago. The only things that were missing were the dead bodies, fires, and the crippling destruction of a world gone mad. This room was not _exactly_ like the memories of his past, due to the fact that they are in a hotel room, but the chaotic-ness was enough to remind him of those terrible times.

The bed, in short, is a mess, the frame was slightly cracked and the mattress was so askew, half of it was nearly touching the floor. The white sheets that use to frame it were ripped off of the mattress long ago and was scattered throughout the room in wads, mixed in with disheveled clothing and broken luggage bags. Even the curtains were not spared; half of them were pulled down with the mess. The ones that did survive hung depressively on bent rods with their rings misshapen.

Along with the clothing, there was broken glass and dishware on the floor. Staining and soaking the floor and clothes with sweet-smelling liquid. A sad stack of pancakes sagged on a pair of jeans, sitting solemnly as it bled maple syrup on the fabric. Ivan tip-toed around the glass and followed the destruction.

Ivan traced his gaze up towards a destroyed leather sofa when he suddenly heard something. Concentrating on the noise he followed the sound that lead to a small dark hallway that held the restroom. Ivan frowned. The sound that he heard was… _slapping_?

Ivan flicked on a switch on a nearby wall and flinched when he saw a person curled up on the floor. The person was smaller than him. At first he though the individual was a girl when he noticed the lacking of certain physical features that said otherwise.

Quietly, he leaned closer over the male and assessed the damage. There was blood on the person's slacks-around the knees, and ankles. There was also some blood on the cuffs on the male's dress shirt, and the wounds were clearly visible on the sides of the palms. From the look of the drag marking under the body, Ivan guessed that this boy dragged himself away from the glass that was by the couch and ended up in the hallway.

_He must have been aiming for the bathroom_, he remarked. Ivan swallowed hard. He is not a stranger when it came to chaos, but looking at this boy made him feel sick. _Who on Earth would do such a thing? _As he looked at the unconscious male, he realized who this person was.

America-_NYET!_ Not America. Does not have the hair style or the clothing… Ivan remembered the polar bear that was sitting outside and finally it came to him.

"Comrade _Canada_!" Ivan blurted, though it sounded like it was the winning answer to a game-show questionnaire. Canada stirred at the sound of Russia's voice and made a miserable moaning sound.

Ivan blinked and bent down closer to the fallen country, his gloved hand squarely on the smaller countries back.

"Comrade Canada… Hey," he gave Mathew a little shake but the country did not wake up. Ivan looked at the state of the Canadian's clothes and feared that somebody might had raped him. The slacks hung crookedly on the Canadian's hips, showing off a sharp hip bone as the unprotected flesh flashed at the Russian. His shirt was scrunched up at one side, exposing Canada's belly on the cold hard ground. Ivan suspected that there might be some more cuts on the unprotected skin.

He shook the Canadian's shoulders, hoping to provoke a response, but to no prevail. The little country was out cold. Ivan stood up quickly; he was not the type to, as America would say, "be the _Hero_", but he cannot leave the Canadian in this state.

Also there was a person responsible for this mess out there. If someone took the time to do this to Comrade Canada, that means there might be a war on their hands and because Mathew is America's twin brother… and the person who discovered him was Ivan… The Russian frowned at this predicament. America usually acts through emotion first and logic second. Since Russia and America are not on the _best_ of terms, it was most likely Ivan will be blamed for this. Besides, a massive destruction, such as this, has been caused by a strong nation. Ivan's country is known for that strength and could be used as evidence.

Ivan bit the inside of his cheek pondering how he is going to report this when the slapping sound again. He looked down at the unconscious Canadian and saw that Mathew was shaking his left arm, accidentally slapping the floor and wall with his fingers. The Russian stared, not sure what to make of this.

After a couple of shakes the arm fell limply back in its original position and did not move again. Russia was very concerned all of a sudden.He knew people make weird body twitches when something medical was off and he feared the worst.

It was really out of character for him to worry about another country when it might not benefit him, as a country. This made him uncomfortable in more ways than one as he freaked over Canada's condition.

He made his decision. _Find Latvia and tell him to find America's twin to talk about health care for Russia, _he schemed, _when Latvia finds Canada, then he can go for help. Comrade Canada will be fine…_

He bent down and gave the unconscious Canadian a final squeeze on the shoulder. It was nothing personal; Ivan just did not care about other countries unless they could benefit him. He can't show weakness in front of the other countries and he can't be blamed for this.

Ivan took a step away from the unconscious Canadian, content with his overall plan when the Russian suddenly fell forward and hit the ground.

His reflexes caught him before he smashed face-first on the tile, but the action of falling so violently made him a bit dazed. Ivan's joints on his elbows and wrist were stinging harshly from G-force of his body caught his fall.

_Something is caught on my ankle. _He thought slowly and sat up stiffly to ravel whatever that has tripped him. He would not be surprised it was a skirt or something because of the mess all over the room. As he reached over his ankle, he touched something that was not fabric.

Hearing the slapping noise coming from the Canadian's fingers hitting the wall and floor with his left hand, Ivan had just brushed his fingers over the vice-like grip of Mathew's right hand. The blood stained fingers tightly gripped the Russian ankle as the Canadian suddenly pulled himself into Ivan's chest.

Looks like little Mattie has not broken his old sleeping habits after all...


	4. Russia Down- Canada on Top

_***stares off dramatically off towards the distance***_** Uhhhh… what-where-maple?! **

**Sorry there was this… distracting thing …over there… where was I? Oh yeah.**

_**Heeheee**_**…**

_**Haahaa**_**…**

_**MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA**_**! **

**It is t**_**iiii**_**me! RELESE THE VICTIM FOR THE **_**HORRENDOUS**_** CUDDLING! **_**Ooo**_** I'm **_**so**_** evil right now… **_**ripe**_** with creative muses Minion i**_**ssssss**_**… Enjoy the squirmy events, my sleazy minion readers… enj**_**oooooo**_**y…**

**And remember…. Rated M(inion)…**

~Part Four: Russia Down-Canada on Top~

The little countries slapping distracted the Russian as Mathew suddenly sat up and advanced towards his victims chest. As he clambered on top of the larger country, Mathew pulled Ivan's leg out with his right hand and knocked the Russian off balance, causing him to fall backwards into the heap of cloths and broken glass. Ivan heard a slight _crunch_ of the broken shards under him as he was forced down. He felt no pain, due to the protection of the heavy cloth of his jacket, but the muffled noise behind him did not make the situation any better.

Mathew's actions were so surprisingly unexpected and out of character that Ivan did not even raise his eyebrows when the Canadian leaned over and straddled Ivan's waist, pinning the Russian's arms down with his lower thighs. Mathew started to sway as he eyed Ivan's chest hungry, deciding the best spot to snuggle. His half open eyes twinkled under his golden bands as his lavender irises locked on the crook of the Russian's neck. Mathew's lips curled into a faint smile as he gradually lowered himself down to his ideal spot.

Ivan could only watch in silent shock as the smaller country strapped his bleeding hands over the Russian's chest and possessively locked together under his arms. He only blinked once when he felt the Canadian nuzzling his scarf and settled down at base of Ivan's neck. With a long relaxed sigh, Mathew's squirming was stilled and his body slackened as he draped himself on top of Ivan. The sigh tickled Ivan's newly exposed skin and he shivered slightly.

_Well_, he thought casually after a moment of stillness, _THAT was different_.

He shifted his arms so that they can move freely and tried pushing Mathew off. He planned to be gentle with the Canadian, aware that the small country was still wounded, but he quickly found that Mathew was not letting go of him which made Ivan really uncomfortable. He gradually pushed harder and harder until he heard a low moan coming from his neck.

"Ce moment n'est pas… later, m'kay?"

Ivan raised an eyebrow. Canada's voice sounded tired and pained under the scarf that made him pause for a moment.

Normally, under any combat situation, Ivan would have never let this gone this far. Being trapped by an enemy country was no longer possible for the modern Russia because for one, he is the largest nation on the entire planet, and two he is powerful due to the abundance of natural resources and the large amount of weaponry he has for defense. Plus he has allies, though limited compared to some nations, but allies none the less. It would have taken _years_ of constant fighting and terrible economy to make his defenses slightly weak, even with that, Ivan could always threaten the enemy with a nuclear winter to make them back off and can still have the power to properly defend himself and fight.

This situation, however, was different. Not making excuses or anything, but the Russian was already tired and weak from the tedious travels to get to Beijing. The many days in the airport with screaming babies and pissed off Russian civilians was heavily taxing on Ivan's strength and stamina. He was lucky to have enough energy to run to the hotel in hopes to make it to the meeting (traffic in Beijing is nightmarish and slow, so he thought it would be better if he ran for it).

Also this assault was completely unexpected. Nobody attacks Russia anymore. He is just that scary, But an attack from Canada? How is that _possible_ for vodka's sake?! CANADA. The country who only focus inwards and takes care of their own nation and leave everyone else alone. Canada, the one who can successfully carry around a dangerous wild polar bear in his arms, which the creature itself is known for eating baby seal's _faces_, and still be invisible to the world. Canada, whom Russia mistaken him for an empty chair once. CANADA, who did not fight Britain for independence, but simply asked for it.

It is understandable why the Russian was a little shocked at the events that have taken place, and hesitated a moment too long when the Canadian suddenly flipped over and advanced the larger nation, like a starved dog to a meaty bone.

He grimmest as he felt Mathew's fingers gripping his grey jacket, knowing the cut flesh was staining his fabric with blood. Mathew's twin is going to love this if he ever caught sight of his brother's blood on the Russian's jacket. Ivan tried shaking Mathew awake.

"Matvey, wake _up_."

Mathew groaned miserably at the sound of his human name and tightened his grip, making Ivan's arms rise slightly upwards and over the back of the Canadian's head.

Ivan had enough of this. He was already uncomfortable with the situation as a whole, but being pinned down by an unconscious _smaller_ nation was a major blow to his ego. With a strained grunt, Ivan pushed himself upward into a sitting position. Mathew's body responded to this movement by loosening his legs from Ivan's knees and molded themselves around the Russian's butt, locking the two pelvises together.

The larger country felt his cheeks flush as he tried unlocking Mathew's arms from his chest. The Canadian mumbled something in French and nuzzled his face deeper into Ivan's collarbone, loosening the scarf around the larger nation's neck. The Russian froze for a split second as he felt Mathew's lips brush Ivan's bare neck. The little nation's hot breath sent tingles down the Russian's spine as Mathew's lips ghostly tickled the sensitive skin. Biting his lower lip, Ivan continued to struggle for freedom, causing whispers of pleasure from his vital regions as the conflicting movement of the two nations essentially grinded together.

The Russian felt Mathew shifting his hips as Ivan tried to struggle free. The friction between the two males was making his southern pole to harden through the fabric as the movement between the two intensified. Ivan's chest tightened as a spasm of pleasure jointed up his spine when he heard the smaller nation on top of him breathed a hot sigh on his neck. With his face beat red, he tried to push the Canadian off one more time while fighting off his animalistic desires.

Ivan flinched when Mathew suddenly snapped his head from his shoulder and looked at him coldly. His lavender eyes were dark with exhaustion and his young face contorted with irritation. The Russian could only stare back, slightly taken aback at the negative facial expressions from the little nation. Who knew that the little Canadian could look so angry?

Mathew's eyes started to glaze over gradually as his subconscious processed the problem before him. His body has finally found the adequate body pillow and could potentially have a good night's sleep for the first time in nearly a week of suffering. But now his pillow is trying to escape him, and as funny as it sounds, Mathew's body will not give up this chance to sleep properly. He will make his new body pillow submit to him.

With that in mind, the Canadian's body violently tilted to one side, causing Ivan's reflexes to subconsciously to react and catch the falling body from cracking his head on the floor. As soon as the Canadian's body felt the grasp of the gloved hand, Mathew's spine curled in on itself, and launched his whole body squarely at the center of Ivan's rib cage, forcing the air to rush out of the Russian's lungs.

Ivan crashed sideways into the wall; breathless and surprised at the sudden attack. Dazed, the Russian slumped over the Canadian like a meat shell and unwillingly let loose his limbs. Mathew's sub consciousness felt this and pinned Ivan to the ground; this time making sure that his new body pillow could not move.

Mathew's legs spread over Ivan's hips, causing their pelvises to rub against each other and lock together as the Canadian's calves molded themselves under his victim's knees. He then forced Ivan's legs to squish together under him and criss-crossed his own legs into a vice like knot and held the Russian's legs in place. Once Ivan's legs were taken care of, Mathew shoved both of his thin arms up and around the top part of Ivan's chest, forcing both of Ivan's arms to raise up and over his head, his wrists crossing over each other. Mathew's small fingers peaked out on the opposite ends of Ivan's shoulders as he possessively gripped him in place behind his back. As a final touch, the Canadian rolled Ivan's body at an angle, so that the weight of the Russian would not cut the blood circulation from his arms. Now it was perfect and the Canadian will not be moved until he naturally wakes from a good eight hours sleep.

Ivan was still recovering his breath when he felt a familiar feeling brush against his exposed neck. Mathew's lips resumed the position that they previously were on. He wheezed a shuttering breath and tried to free his trapped limbs, but to no prevail. The only movement he could do was feebly shake his arms and legs by their joints and that's it. Ivan relaxed for a moment to collect both his breath and his thoughts. Mathew sighed against Ivan's neck in response, making the Russian blush deeply.

_This is very bad,_ he thought miserably. Not only he was trapped under the Canadian nation in the worst possible way, but is nose started to itch because the tinny thin curl on top of Canada's head was tickling the top of his nose, and his arms could not reach over to scratch it.

Ivan shifted his chest, hopping he could loosen Mathew's grip when he heard something new. He froze and listened hard. It was the sound of a door opening. Ivan looked up at the direction of the sound and heard an agitated sigh coming from the entrance.

"Ce garçon de mes amis... I have no idea how he comes up with the money to pay for all this damage. Mon pauvre ange aux cheveux doré… "

Ivan remained frozen as he heard footsteps approaching, stepping over the destruction and rounded the corner to the hallway where the two countries lye intertwine.

France looked at the scene, his blue eyes widen as he saw a sad looking Russian bleakly looking up back at him with Canada locked on his chest.

"Ce que le-"

"_France_! It's not what it looks like," Ivan quickly sputtered, "He won't get off me no matter how hard I try, you must release me from Matvey!"

There was a long moment of silence. France just kept glancing at Canada, back to Russia and to Canada again in a jerky rhythm, his mouth hanging open in shock. Russia made a sad, child-like face at the French man, pleading with his amber eyes to help him.

Francis put his hand inside his pocket and pulled out something rectangular. Russia's eyes lit up, thinking it was a device to make Canada let go of him, until he recognized that France was holding out a phone.

_Is he going to call out for help_- Ivan's thought was cut short when he heard the familiar sound of an electrical camera clicking. _Snap_.

He saw France look down at his camera and saved the picture that he just took at the pair. Ivan's face turned from hopeful to horror to anger. France looked up and saw the change in Ivan's expression and smiled at him. This was not a normal smile, mind you. This smile made France's pupils disappear, the ends of his eye lids dark, and his mouth forming into a perfect triangle. No, this was not a "happy" expression on the French man's face. It is a "rape" face.

France took a step backwards, not taking his eyes off the Russian.

"_Nyet_! Come back! Don't leave me here like this-" Ivan was cut off by Francis laughter and watched his only hope back away from the room and slowly closed the door behind him.

"Hon-hon-hon-hon-hon" then finally the door clicked shut. Silence filled the rest of the room, except for the men's breathing.

Ivan was now alone with no help coming to his aid. The French man has doomed him to this snuggling Canadian. He swallowed hard as Mathew shifted on top of him and planted his face under Ivan's jaw line.

It just keeps getting better and better….

….

Translation with words provided by _Bing _(French)

Ce moment n'est pas… Not right now

Ce garçon de mes amis... That boy for mine

Mon pauvre ange aux cheveux doré… My poor golden haired angel

Ce que le… What the

Hon-hon-hon-hon-hon… Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

**Well my minions! That was an adventure, eh? To be flipping continued! What will Ivan do now?! Will Canada wake up and let our victim go free from the torturous cuddling-NO! Why would you think that?! **_**NEVER**_**! Until next time with more M(inion) rated shenanigans!**

**Oh and Minion thanks to all of my minion reviewers and followers… I promise I would not cry but… **_***sniff***_** Minion loves my minions! **_***cries pathetically to the corner* **_


	5. Sweet Dreams of Russian Conquest

**M'ehhh…. Sorry for that, my… minions…. **

**Been sick since forever ago and just have peeled myself from the floor to write this… **_**cuddly monstrosity**_**…. Word of advice. Do not run around in the rain wearing a tank top and shorts while screaming an hour's worth of Beach Boys lyrics… it's like summoning the devil of all flues. It's not pretty. Anywho, during my feverish delusions of maple syrup and lead pipes came an idea of biblical snuggly delights. So without further ado…**

~Part five: Strange Dreams of Russian Conquest~

**Oh uh… sorry one more thing. Minion would like to give a shout out to **yoailover4lyfe**, this author writes a lotta kick-ass shorts of Mathew x Ivan, so if you like my stuff, you'll love this guys stuff. So, yeah. Read them or I blow up the moon while wearing a silly hat. The hat will. **_**be**_**. silly.**

**Rated M(inion) **

Mathew heaved a long relaxed sigh as his body mimicked breathing rhythms to match with the rise and fall of the Russian's chest. Though any other nation would argue that the struggle of the two opposing forces moments ago would have at least stirred the snuggling terror that is Canada, but the little country was fast asleep and have been dreaming ever since he latched on to Ivan's core.

Nuzzling his nose under the bend of Ivan's warm jaw line, Mathew sunk deeper into his dream world and twitched happily as he tighten his grip around the Russian front.

~Mathew's Dream~

Mathew found himself standing in the dark. His arms crossed in front of his chest while caring a heavy object-which he assumed that it was his polar bear pet. Mathew's memory had kicked in and told the little dreamer that he was late for the meeting. Grimacing at the thought of tardiness, he pulled his pet closer to him, making the Canadian strangely warmer from the front side. His pet gruffly mumbled something in a weird language under him, but he was too focused on the meeting.

Canada had no idea on how he got there or why the meeting was taking place, but all of a sudden he was standing before the closed doors of the meeting hall. He was not even sure if he brought all his notes from last time. Nervously, he glanced down at the spot where he carried his pet and noticed that the polar bear cub had changed into a vodka flask with "Get Well Soon" balloons tied to the cork. Mathew smiled endearingly at the transformation of his polar bear and shifted the heavy object on his hip so that he can reach the door handle comfortably.

As Mathew squeezed the long polished knob, he was surprised on how the texture was so dramatically different compared to the shinny surface of its exterior. It felt like warm cloth and it was… squishy or absorbent or perhaps flexible if he bent it to the side, he could not tell which. He continued to squeeze the knob, discovering that the object was a lot bigger then it looked. It was also growing slightly wider under his grip, and the object twitched violently under his palm.

"Well, that's odd, huh Kiromajabico?" Canada asked his once furry companion, slaughtering his name in the process.

"_Стоп! Не трогайте меня там!" _replied the vodka flask, its balloons bobbing up and down violently on its strings.

"Whatever you say, buddy," mumbled Mathew and then he twist the door handle down and carefully pulled the door open. The Canadian was trying to quietly sneak into the meeting without disturbing anyone, but the creak on the door ruptured the silence as he pulled it open. It sounded like a large man groaning in his ears-or more correctly in his right ear. Which was really weird because the door was on his left side.

Wincing, dream Mathew gripped the handle harder and pulled the door open in a swift jagged tug. The opening was large enough for him to sneak in and he quickly closed the noisy door as he slid past. During the quick motion, one of little Kumajirou's balloons popped in the door frame, splattering hot maple syrup and Kit-Kat bars on the walls with a loud "_UGH_!".

Mathew looked at the vodka flask-which now had turned into a hockey stick-with stern yet apologetic expression.

"Sorry, eh. I was too rough on you," Mathew leaned in closer to his pet, the hockey stick, "but you have to be _quiet_," he whispered in to the bend of the wooded exterior.

He noticed that the hockey stick was raiding off too much heat as he brought his lips toward it, which made him concerned because _"a hot polar bear is a grumpy polar bear" _his Papa had once said long ago. Quickly and without second thought, he licked the hockey stick in hopes that the saliva will cool his companion down enough for him to attend the meeting. Maybe during break he could get some ice water and cool the hot bear cub down. His hockey stick, however, did not appreciate the Canadian's help and twisted under Mathew's grasp, which made him very frustrated. His hockey stick companion was really hot under the Canadians touch, and squirmed away as he licked the top length of it all the way to the bend.

"Подождите! Не делайте этого!" Kumajirou whined as he struggled away from Mathew's tongue.

The Canadian had no clue on the random gibberish his pet was saying and it was making him a little irked that his companion was communicating so weirdly. After a couple of licks later, Mathew lost his patience. With a low growl, Mathew bared his teeth in frustration and bit the back of the wooden shaft.

"I'm sorry to do this, buddy, but you need to calm down," Mathew muffled. He knew that the bite did not hurt the bear cub/vodka flask/hockey stick, because polar bear mothers would carry their young on the scruff of their neck. This would also calm the baby down and make them submissive, though he could never recall ever biting Kumajirou in the past and was slightly confused on why he was doing it now.

There was a tinny cough in the background that jarred Mathew back to dream reality. Cautiously, the Canadian glanced over his shoulder to find everyone staring at him. "Ah _merde_."

Arthur was glaring up at him from the front of the desk, his fifteen layer eyebrows just barely covering the wicked emerald gleam from his eyes. He was in the middle of talking about solving world hunger by letting him rule the other nations in the name of the queen when Mathew stumbled in late and disrupted him with the groaning door. Mathew gave a shy smile and gave a little wave.

He wanted to disappear at that moment. Which is funny because in the past he would have given anything to be noticed but the mean look coming from his step dad made him want to hide in a hole and not come out for a few years. He was about to scurry away to his seat when Arthur stopped him.

"_Son_! Why are you so bloody late? I haven't I taught you better than that? Remember those lessons I have shoveled into that thick skull of yours-"

Alfred, Mathew's twin brother suddenly shot out of his seat and pointed dramatically at their father figure; for some reason, Alfred was wearing a red cape and matching underwear over his tan pants. "Hey old man! Lay off my bro, _dog_!"

Arthur rolled his eyes, which was barely seen from his massive eyebrows, and gestured to Mathew to come stand by him. With a sad sigh, the Canadian dragged himself and his companion to stand next to his step father.

He shifted Kumajirou-who had now turned into a flute-closer to his body as a barrier from Arthur's stern glare.

"Well, since you are so late, why don't you finish off the meeting and give us your point of view on solving world hunger." England said while clapping his hand on the Canadian's shoulder.

Mathew looked up at his step dad with the same innocent twinkling expression he made when England had given him that stuffed bear that helped him sleep all those years ago. With a small grin on his face, Mathew looked up at the attendance of the meeting and spoke out his bottled thoughts, ideas and theories. As he was giving his speech, the Canadian noticed that Ivan, the country Russia, was not here among the other nations.

"_I wonder where he is,"_ he wondered absent mindedly as he discussed the flaws of the trade.

~Ivan in Real Life~

Ivan stared out in shock at the ceiling; his super sensitive neck throbbing from the bite. He shivered was the saliva on his neck evaporated off his skin, making a cold sensation on his overheated body.

The Russian could not believe what Mathew has done to him, and he feared that it was going to get worst if he let this man continued to sleep on him. Somehow… he had to wake the sleepy nation.

Ivan was preparing a mental list on ways to wake Mathew up when he felt something tickle his lips. Without thinking, Ivan automatically bit down at the teasing object and pulled his chin up forward, causing an erotic coming out of the side of the Russian's neck.

**HAHAHA! What is Ivan gonna do now? Those who know about Canada's sensitive curl… **_**Hon, hon, hon, hon, hon**_**….. ah, poor Ivan. Till next time, my minions! **

Translation provided by _Bing_ (Russian)

_Стоп! Не трогайте меня там!..._ Stop! Don't tough me there!

Подождите! Не делайте этого!... Wait! Don't do that!

Translation provided by Bing (French)

_Ah merde…. _Ah shit.____


	6. During the Dream

**Egad. I rise from the dead. So sorry my minions, it has been a long, long while-and where I left off in the cuddly story-**_hon hon hon hon hon_**-I should have been more mindful of finishing what I started ;) or at least going deeper in details…**

**Anywho, I would like to take a small moment to thank all my faithful minions who wrote those lovely words of encouragement in the "response" part of the story…folder…thingy. Words are like my fuel and was the only thing that made me come back to continue this little terror. So thank you so much 3 MINION LOVES MY MINIONS!**

**Also! As a super spontaneous idea for the readers who are also artists, I realized that there is not a lot of Ivan x Mathew pictures out in the world-a terrible shame of the century-… so, if anyone who is an artist and is inspired by this story, I would not mind to see someone's **_**visual**_** point of view :) Let's have fun with this my creative minions! **

**Alright. The moment that most of you minions are waiting for… I now present yooooooou:**

Russia Invaded! Part Six: During the Dream…

**Rated M(inion) for a reason, eh? MWAHAHAAHA!**

DURING MATHEW'S DREAM SEQUENS: BACK TO THE CURENT RALITY OF IVAN'S CUDDLY SITUAYION…

Ivan heard a long dreamy sigh from the smaller nation on top of him as thin arms griped his torso tighter. The Russian heard of people having good dreams; he himself, however, never had the pleasure. It's always the same occurring dream of him as a growing struggling weakling, fighting alone with the Mongolians, along with other aggressive nations, and constantly getting mortally wounded. Though having to face old memories of getting hurt was painful enough for the larger nation, the reoccurring feelings of being alone secretly crippled him. True he had his sisters who still love him to this day, but Ivan had been caring a lot of heavy emotional baggage of his early nationhood that no one might ever understand, or at least would relate to his struggles.

Though in the past he would have given anything for the attention that he is receiving now, having someone obsessively trying to pin his limbs down and smother him to the point of dominating was severally disturbing. Personally, he was the one who rather be the dominator, not the submissive one. It was easier that way and gave him all the control, but the actions of this little nation were setting his nerves on end.

As Ivan was focused on collecting his jumbled thoughts, he became very aware of the sensitivity of his partly exposed neck. With every hitch breath the Canadian made was instantly registered inside Ivan's head as warning signs and hazard lights. There was a reason why he wore a scarf all the time. He was not use to things toughing his neck and was now extremely sensitive to the point that he might break out in River-Dance in order to make the tickling sensations stop. Begrudgingly, he felt Mathew's breathing has changed and felt the little nation's lips perk-up into a smile. The small movement sent a shiver down his spine and he shrugged his shoulders at Mathew's face; attempting to move the cuddling threat away from his sensitive spots.

Canada, made a small humming noise and move closer to Ivan's neck and locked himself under Russia's jaw-line. In response, Ivan bit his lower lip to stop him from shrieking at the movement and moved his head away as far as possible from the sleepy Canadian.

Because of Ivan's focus was strictly on his neck, he failed to notice movement coming down his side and inching slowly towards his vital regions. The feeling of something groping his southern area made the Russian pause in his attempts to escape the breathing lips. The feeling was so new and so taboo that no other emotion, beside a silent shock, was registered in his brain.

He did not know it, but while this was going on, dream Mathew was trying to open up the door and attempt to go to a meeting with his vodka/bear. Though dream Mathew was late to the meeting, the door handle in his dream felt weird in his hand and did not open correctly. So the little Canadian continued to work with the door in attempts to open the dream door.

Russia, who did not know what was going on in the dream, silently cursed the Frenchman and desperately tried to stop the groping from the teasing Canadian. Like before, Mathew molded himself against the Russian's struggling body and repeatedly shifting his own limbs to lock on to the joints of the "body pillow" to keep it from escaping.

Ivan did not struggle as much as he did previously; knowing that the more he moved, the more energy he will waste. A sensual squeeze later from the man on top of him, Ivan gritted his teeth and moved his face towards the sleeping Canadian. The movement of Ivan turning inward into Mathew stirred him from his sleep, and for a slight second, the Russian heard the Canadian mumble questionably, "K….-jabico…?"

The response gave the blushing nation a slight bit of hope of waking Canada. Feeling a steady burn hit his stomach caused by the groping of his growing problem, Ivan yelled, "_Стоп! Не трогайте меня там!"_ in Mathew's ear, completely ditching the English language.

Mathew stopped moving. Ivan was about to breathe a sigh of relief when Canada mumbled, "Whatever you say, buddy," then he grasped the Russian's member tighter and pulled outward. Unwillingly, Ivan moaned out loudly as the Canadian pleasured him in his sleep. The Russian grunted in pain because his pants were suddenly too tight. Though the sensual action was brief, he still gasped erotically once Mathew stopped pulling and lay on the floor panting. Ivan was shocked with himself when his hips took a mind of their own and violently thrust up at the Canadian in a swift motion, as if it were begging the Canadian to keep going. In response, Mathew squished himself tighter towards the Russian, pushing himself against Ivan's vital regions.

Ivan did not know what to do with himself. The heat between the two bodies was clouding his mind; he did not mind Mathew touching his neck, and the closeness of the other nation was suddenly not satisfyingly enough for him. At this moment, he was more focus on trying to relieve his stimulated need than to escape from the teasing terror that is Canada. He was still twitchy when he felt Canada suddenly lick his neck.

It was warm, wet and so erotic. Worst still, the pestering smaller nation's devious tongue was tickling him. Though he still handicapped by the huge problem that stood between his legs, Ivan could not help but to squirm and jump every time Mathew's tongue touched his sensitive neck. "Подождите! Не делайте этого!" He shrieked at Mathew; their opposing bodies causing friction between the two.

As suddenly as the licking started, Canada turned his face downward and bit the struggling nation in the crook of his neck. Ivan stopped moving while Canada held the larger nation in his teeth. Mathew's bite was firm but not enough to draw blood. Still, from a nation who never took off his scarf do to sensitivity in his neck, the bite was so shocking that it hurt him psychologically then physically.

What felt like an hour, Mathew sheathed his teeth and resumed his previous position of dreamily breathing on Ivan's neck and not letting the larger nation go. Ivan, still in shock, lay there, trying to deal with the pain in his neck and the demanding plea for attention in his vital regions. He stared out in shock at the ceiling; his super sensitive neck throbbing from the bite. He shivered was the saliva on his neck evaporated off his skin, making a cold sensation on his overheated body

The Russian could not believe what Mathew has done to him, and he feared that it was going to get worst if he let this man continued to sleep on him. Somehow… he had to wake the sleepy nation.

Ivan was preparing a mental list on ways to wake Mathew up when he felt something tickle his lips. Without thinking, Ivan automatically bit down at the teasing object and pulled his chin up forward, causing an erotic coming out of the side of the Russian's neck.

MEAN WHILE: DURING THE WORLD MEETING…

Francis kept flipping open his phone while laughing a slow creepy Frenchman's laugh. His aura around him swirled in a dark purple sheen as his pupils disappeared in his eyes when he looked upon the screen of the cell phone. His face was illuminated in a dull blue light, which made him look more devious in the dark room.

Throughout the world meeting, France had been doing this repetitive action for the past hour of opening his phone, slip a silent _"hon-hon-hon", _and nosily snapped the phone shut. Those who knew France well could easily tell something was sinisterly sexual event had happened… and England, who sat next to the Frenchman, did not know how to deal with this.

For the first five minutes, he just ignored his exlover's _"hon"'s_ and tried to focus on Germany's half scream orientation of "Applying Perfect Educate and Time Management with in the World Meeting". Apparently, fencing with France and calling him every profanity noun in the English language two hours ago was deemed as a "Disrespectful Gesture on your Fellow Country". England shot an evil eye at Germany when he started listing those words that he just used hours ago. The little _wanker_…

As the meeting crawled forward, Francis kept getting Arthur distracted with the constant opening and closing of his phone. It was normal for the countries to get distracted and not listen in meetings, half of the time Arthur barley pays attention to the other nations rants and finds himself spacing out, but what France was doing... he had to know what was on the phone.

Arthur was secretly suspicious that the picture that Francis was looking at was a picture of him during the years that they were living together. One of the events that caused their separation was his discovery of home-filmed and well edited sex tapes of England and France "getting it on" in a variety of angles. He was surprised that 95% or them were them having kinky sex, while the other 5% is what Francis did while Arthur was unconscious. France had a lot of time in his hands as soon as Mathew was sleeping better. Lots and lots of time…

Arthur swallowed hard and fidgeted in his seat at this thought of this. Because they were not together anymore, Francis might have shared those photos to anyone, and by the number of times he had opened and closed his phone he might have sent multiple of pictures. Desperately, he scanned the faces around the table, looking for a sign that someone is receiving messages and or looking at England's direction in a coy, all-knowing look.

Around the table, he noticed that there were a few people missing. Russia was the first noticeable person missing; his two sisters who usually accompany him sat fidgeting and checking their watches on their own cell phones; occasionally whispering to one another while gesturing towards the door. They look like they were about to leave soon; Arthur guessed that they were planning on looking for their brother during the break. The "Trembling Trio", however, looked extremely relaxed compared to the winter sisters. They smiled more, talked more and engaged with other nations freely without a fear of a looming danger to punish them.

Along with the disappearance of Russia, Cuba, Switzerland, Romania and the Netherlands where missing as well. Two of them called ahead explaining that their flights had been delayed because of the weather over towards China and might make it there at the next day. The others, like Russia, had not been heard since early this morning, making some of the other nations worry and or secretly cheering for joy.

Arthur shot a scolding look at America who had helped China make the invitations to the world meeting. He had told that boy many times to send the letters earlier so that the nations could have time to pack and be here on time. He hated tardiness-it is ungentlemanly and can be extremely rude, but in this case, the missing person is not entirely at fault. Though he was still suspicious at Francis, Arthur managed to "tut-tut" at Alfred's direction. _Why is he so irresponsible_, he thought to himself-his inner father assuming the position of nagging.

Arthur looked away from Alfred at glanced back at Francis who snapped the phone shut for the 20th time. Francis was holding his mouth, muffling a series of _"hon"'s_ to the point that the Frenchman was shaking in his seat; the pupils of his eyes disappearing once more and the "rape" aura fluctuating around him. Some of the weaker nations felt this aura and shivered in their seats as the ghost-like words floated around them _"Hello French new territory…"_ Though the man conducting the aura had no attentions of taking over anyone… yet, they still trembled at the sexual power of all that is France.

England shifted once again and narrowed his eyes at his neighbor suspiciously; from what he can tell by glancing around the table, nobody had received any visual messages of him in a naughty position. This could mean one or two things. One: France-y-pants is sending messages to people who are not here, or two: France is messing with England. Though he hated the thought of having France getting under his skin, he hoped it was the second option.

Once the first hour of the meeting was done, everyone was allowed fifteen minutes of break. As soon as everybody stood up from their seats, Arthur turned on Francis. "Alright, what is so _funny_?! You have been opening and closing that blasted phone for a whole bloody hour. What ARE you looking at?!"

France looked at England without turning his head. "You would not believe me if I told you-_hon_ _hon hon_…" and he stuffed the cell phone in his pocket.

England gave France a sour look as he eyed the electronic bulge of Francis side pocket. France smiled suggestively and winked at Arthur.

Something snapped in England that had sent him hurtling at France. Francis, who anticipated an attack, shoved his attacker's arms to the side and pushed him face first into the table. England slid forward on his chest on the smooth surface, like a penguin on its belly, and was instantly pined by France's hips. Francis widens his stance and pushed Arthur's body forward with his lower regions to stop the other country's struggling. He then molded his own body on top of Arthur's and snatched his exlover's wrists.

France pushed his face next to England's neck; his stubbly beard tickling the other countries ear as he whispered, "Playing rough are we, love? You know how that makes me…" France pushed his hips closer to England's rear.

England made a strangled cry and tried to buck France off of him. Francis chuckled at the feeble attempts and continued to mess with the man under him. Francis only stop and let Arthur go when he heard America approaching.

"_Dude_, get a room! There are still people here, you know." Alfred's voice was flat and uncaring; unfortunately for him, he had seen much _much_ worst when he was a kid, so seeing the two men in that position on the table did not embarrass him as much as it should.

England shot off from the table, his face cherry red and took a swing at France's face. France saw the action, but moved too slow and got clipped in the jaw from Arthur's wild punch. Francis mumbled a French profanity at the English country and turned his attention at Alfred, who was still standing there in front of them. Clearly the American country wanted something.

Alfred shifted slightly, annoyed by the sexual tension between his two fathers, and asked his question. "So, have you guys seen Mathew? He was not here, and I thought something happened, so…yeah."

England snapped out of his embarrassed trance and glowered at Alfred. Besides tardiness, he hated America's constant slaughter of the English language. Though his own country had been lacked on some vocabulary terms recently, America's slang and how he gets to the point in a lethargic manor was a pet-peeve for him. He swallowed some of his annoyance down and replied dramatically, "Whose 'Mathew'?"

Alfred and Francis heaved out an irritated sigh. "Mathew…? Canada? Ring any bells?" America shook his head, still amazed that England forgot again.

France leaded in closer to Arthur with his arms crossed, "America's twin? The country above him who has my angelic hair style?"

England had a glazed look in his eyes as he slowly nodded. He forgot all about Canada, the other missing country who usually sat next to America and Mexico. He usually sits between America and Cuba to stop them from fighting during the meeting, but since both of them were gone, America had a ton of elbow room. How can he not notice _that_?

After an awkward moment of silence, France answered the question. "Mathew is in his room sleeping. He did not bring his pillow-" America interrupted with a painful "ah-ha…", "-yes," France continued, "so I recommend we should leave him alone for a few hours."

"Alrighty then, just checkin'," and with that, Alfred turned his heel and walked on his merry way.

England watched America go and then turned to France again, still angry at the table incident and suspicious about the picture on the phone. He still wanted to pick a fight with France for the rude gesture, which was fine for the Frenchman because he knew how these fights generally end. Ten minutes is all he needed.

_Hon hon hon hon hon…. _

**Oh myyyyy… I guess I can't let Canada and Russia have all the fun? Till next time were we continue to trudge on ward down the cuddly chaos-which is has now turned to… well, a sexy version of a wrestling match of a deadly cuddle bug and an embarrassed Russian nation who does not know what to do with himself. SO instead of focusing on his **_**huge**_** problem (ha), Ivan will return the favor and discover Mathew's sensitive spot…**

**Again… Oh myyyyyyyyyyyy… **

Translation provided by _Bing_ (Russian)

_Стоп! Не трогайте меня там!..._ Stop! Don't tough me there!

Подождите! Не делайте этого!... Wait! Don't do that!

~Oh how I love you _Bing_ translation! You make my life slightly interesting!~


End file.
